The planting of bergamot seeds planned for yesterday or today has been delayed as we wait for the seeding medium to absorb water. Said medium appears to be mostly to entirely peat moss. When first watered, it ”erupted” out of the seed tray cells and made a mess of the work area. Now puddles of water are sitting on, not in, what’s acting like a hydrophobic substance. Patience is far from one of my virtues, but the instructions say make sure the medium is “thoroughly wet” before seeding. Tomorrow, or the day after, will be soon enough if we have to wait.
how long until we see an early Spring dandelion?
Photo by J. Harrington
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It’s too windy today to start burning last winter’s dropped branches in the fire pit. The weather looks more promising over the next few days. I may even get daring and trade the winter parka for the transitional seasons version. If I really decide to empt the fates and the weather gods, I may remove the back blade from the tractor and put the trailer hitch / ball carrier on. Can you tell I’ve gotten (past pluperfect) antsy about being outside “doing stuff?” The way seven-year-olds feel about Christmas’ arrival, I am about spring and warmer, sunny weather.
Fortunately, there’s a stack of books to be read that can keep me occupied while I wait for water to be absorbed and winds to die down. In fact, the sun even broke through the clouds this afternoon. It just may be possible that better days are ahead.
A Short Story of Falling
By Alice Oswald
It is the story of the falling rainto turn into a leaf and fall againit is the secret of a summer showerto steal the light and hide it in a flowerand every flower a tiny tributarythat from the ground flows green and momentaryis one of water's wishes and this talehangs in a seed-head smaller than my thumbnailif only I a passerby could passas clear as water through a plume of grassto find the sunlight hidden at the tipturning to seed a kind of lifting rain dripthen I might know like water how to balancethe weight of hope against the light of patiencewater which is so raw so earthy-strongand lurks in cast-iron tanks and leaks alongdrawn under gravity towards my tongueto cool and fill the pipe-work of this songwhich is the story of the falling rainthat rises to the light and falls again
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